


You're The Echoes Of My Everything

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, I really love Stan, M/M, Mental Health Issues, proofreading? I don't know her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:39:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10069517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tweek is sad, and Craig knows just how to make him feel better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in sixth period because I was having a depressive episode...drag me

Bile was rising up Tweek's throat at an alarming rate. He turned to the side and muffled a groan into the nearest pillow pillow, appreciating the fabric's smell. Craig used an unscented fabric, but to Tweek it smelled of strawberries. Usually this smell brought him comfort, but right now the fruity aroma only worsened his nausea. 

Craig was sleeping soundly on Tweek's left, almost definitely dreaming of the couple's earlier visit to the South Park planetarium. Departure from routine made Tweek's head ache, but for Craig he was willing to make an exception. If Tweek had at some point been nervous about the trip, the manner in which the stars on screen reflected in his boyfriend's eyes more than made up for it. 

Craig had spoken excitedly about the event for weeks in advance, Tweek mostly zoning out as he rambled. 

As Tweek remembered the laser light show and the far more captivating vision of Craig's smile as he watched it, he tried in vain to lull himself to sleep. In his mind, he conjured up the image of a meadow. The grass swayed gently in the wind and their were flowers of every color in the rainbow. Everything was quiet except for the low rumble of oncoming thunder. Tweek sighed. As much as he enjoyed this image, he was still wide awake. 

The room was too hot, he decided. The room was too hot and these sweatpants were too uncomfortable. Their rough fabric rubbed against his thighs in a way that burned. 

Tweek was horribly nervous, which should probably go without saying. He had watched Craig drift to sleep with both fondness and envy, wishing it could be as easy for him. Anxiety wrapped itself around him like a blanket, and Tweek knew he could easily be tricked by this rouse. If he let his guard down, the beast would choke him in one fluid motion. 

This particular sensation was a low rumble of nerves, somehow calmer than the panicked buzz induced by his father's coffee. Unaccompanied by his characteristic 'gah!'s and 'too much pressure!'s, this brand of anxiety easily go undetected by everyone around him.

Everyone around him, that is, except for Craig. Tweek and Craig often found themselves making exceptions for each other. In the most base interpretations of both parties, Craig was agitated by everyone except for Tweek and Tweek was made nervous by everything except for Craig. 

Jimmy Valmer had added to his ever growing list repertoire of impressions one during which he imitated Craig's disinterested voice when speaking to anyone who wasn't his boyfriend, and then switched suddenly to the considerably kinder tone he spoke to Tweek in. The joke was rather niche, and not something he could use for a real audience, but it made Clyde laugh until his cheeks turned pink. Craig would respond to his friend's shenanigans with a calm smirk because he knew the accusation to be true. 

Craig always knew when Tweek was experiencing an attack simply because he bothered to pay attention. He picked up on all of his boyfriend's harsh twitches and odd mannerisms because he wanted to help make things okay. 

Sometimes in the midst of rowdy social gatherings, Tweek became very overwhelmed. This, in turn, invoked hyperventilation and the digging of his fingernails into Craig's arm. When this happened, Craig would very calmly remove his boyfriend from the situation and move him into a quiet room. There, he would intertwine his finger's with Tweek's and let him breathe. He would whisper soft 'I love you's until Tweek decided he could once again deal with the shrieking tea kettle fashion in which Kyle Broflovski spoke and the heavy scent of marijuana smoke. And if that time didn't come, Tweek and Craig would go home. 

Tweek was well aware of this. In theory. In theory, he knew that Craig would not mind being shaken awake. In practice, however, the task was rather daunting. It would be as simple as reaching over and nudging his arm; but what if it wasn't? What if Craig got angry? What if he rolled his eyes? In Tweek's mind, his boyfriend became a distorted caricature of himself, big dull eyes and turned down lips. 

If Tweek could pinpoint a specific reason for this episode, that would be one thing. Maybe then he could work out a solution, or script an internal mantra on why everything would be okay. But Tweek didn't know why the fuck he was so worked up in the first place. This afternoon had been nothing but pleasant, and now he was curled up in his boyfriend's bed. Tweek considered for a moment why his mind had gone haywire and realized that if he asked any other resident of town, they would have an answer. 

Tweek is crazy, they would say. He blows everything out of proportion. He's neurotic to the point of annoying. Craig has only stayed with him for this long because he's feels bad, some douchebag would yell. Yeah, another asshole would agree, and the free blowjobs can't hurt. 

South Park was the kind of town where no one's business was their own. As an unfortunate consequence of this fact, everyone in town was aware of Tweek's mental state. It's fragility, to be exact. Everyone had come to see Tweek as something of a balancing act; tiptoeing precariously across a tight rope until the inevitable day when he fell. When he walked the short distance to school, or to the grocery store, people stared warily at him. They were afraid that at any moment he would snap. Snap, in this case, meaning kill himself. Tweek didn't think this was very fair, because Stan Marsh really did try to kill himself during sophomore year and everyone still looked on in reverence when he passed them. In fairness to the masses, he was the best quarterback the town had ever seen. 

Even if everyone else on the mountain appeared to have gotten over Stan's brief encounter with death, Tweek had not. Everyone in town knew the story of the day Stan slit his wrists in the master bathroom of the Marsh's house. He had gone to see Kyle Broflovski beforehand which was weird, because he and Kyle didn't really talk anymore at that point. They weren't enemies or anything, but at some point they both got sick of each other's self righteous bullshit. 

So anyway, Stan went to see Kyle and, as Kyle told everyone after the fact, they sat on the edge of his bed and talked. Or, Stan talked, and Kyle listened. Evidently, Stan had given some grand soliloquy about how sad he was while Kyle nodded in grave understanding. The speech cultivated in Stan exclaiming an earnest and rather unsettlingly truth to his former best friend. 

"Don't you get it? I'm never gonna feel better!" Stan had said before bolting from Kyle's bedroom and taking the stairs two at a time. 

In the aftermath, this statement was what Tweek felt most affected by, as it echoed so many of his own thoughts. If the the word "inspired" has an opposite, this is what Tweek was by Stan's words. While Stan laid somewhere in an institution, Tweek stopped taking the medicine prescribed to him by his psychopharmacologist. 

Stan, Tweek decided, had made a very good point. If he was past the point of healing, then why should he continue to force pills down his throat with tepid water? Tweek hated how they felt going down. 

After being involved with someone for nine years, it's very hard for them to surprise you. When Craig discovered that Tweek was no longer taking his medication, they were both very much surprised by his reaction. Craig had become too choked up to articulate to Tweek how exactly this revelation made him feel, and then he had begun to cry. In all nine years of their courtship, Tweek had only seen his boyfriend cry once before. That was during the funeral they held for Stripe during which they were the only two people present. After that incident, Tweek began taking his medicine again if only to appease Craig's sensibilities. 

Stan was only gone for a couple of weeks, and when he returned it was with a patently fake smile plastered boldly across his face. This smile allowed all of South Park's residents to breathe easier, secure in the knowledge that their prized football team would remain in tact. No one seemed to notice when Stan starting coming to class stinking of vodka, sometimes with dried vomit on his letterman jacket. 

Kenny McCormick had started hanging around Stan again after the incident, which was something. He hovered around Stan almost nervously in the hallways, making sure no one made any insensitive remarks. Tweek could tell that Kenny resented Kyle a little now, presumably for not having done more to help. 

As Tweek watched Craig sleep, he couldn't help but wish that Stan had someone to make sure he took all of his medicine. Without thinking, he reached forward to brush a stray piece of hair from Craig's eyes. Something about the gesture caused the pit of nausea in his stomach to subside, though marginally. Tweek looked up to the ceiling and stared for a second, forcing the image of a monster crawling out of the air vent from his head. It took a few moments of looking for Tweek to notice the hot tears on his cheeks. 

He sat up sharply, wiping his face with one hand. It was the dwelling on things past the got him started, he was sure of it. That old idea of never being happy, and how that fear never really faded with time. On nights like these, it became increasingly difficult for Tweek to imagine himself in a more comfortable head space. The muted anguish in his chest never seemed to disappear. 

There were moments, though. There were moments when the snow was falling just right, or Jimmy was telling some stupid joke, or Craig was brushing his chapped lips against Tweek's cold skin. In those moments and others, Tweek could believe he was going to get out of this town alive. 

Almost unknowingly, Tweek reached for Craig's sleeping form and shook it the slightest bit. Nothing. Craig Tucker was nothing if not a deep sleeper. Tweek shook him once more, harder this time. Still nothing. 

"Craig!" Tweek stage whispered, shaking him a third time. This time, his stirred. Craig's eyes opened so slowly that it was if they had been glued shut. 

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He asked, fighting off grogginess. Craig had become famous among their friend group for all the dumb pet names he insisted on using for his boyfriend. 

"I, uh, don't feel good." Tweek mumbled, already feeling stupid. God, did he ever stop whining? Why the hell did it feel it necessary to wake Craig up again? To listen to his babbling nonsense? Craig sat up, concerned.

"What's the matter?" He asked sadly, rubbing Tweek's arm in a way he hoped was comforting. 

"I'm just nervous." Tweek said with a sigh, leaning forward to nuzzle his head on Craig's chest. "I'm being stupid, sorry." 

Craig frowned, moving one hand onto Tweek's back. With the other, he reached to turn on his lamp. 

"Don't apologize, idiot." He said, cringing immediately afterwards. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." 

"I know. It's okay." 

"I love you." 

"Same." 

It was silent for a minute, no sound but that of the ceiling fan's constant whir. 

"Craig, can you take my razors again?" Tweek whispered finally. Craig's grip on his shoulders tightened. 

"What's wrong?" He asked, hoping his voice would remain steady. 

"Everything hurts." Tweek managed to choke out. He hoped that this episode would only last the night, and that in the morning exchange would seem silly. The dark has a way of making everything appear like itself. Craig shut his eyes tight, willing himself not to cry. 

"I'm so sorry." He whispered back. 

"Not your fault." There was a pause before either boy spoke again. 

"You know how much better my life is with you in it?" Craig asked, his warm breath brushing against Tweek's ear. Tweek couldn't be sure of whether or not the question was rhetorical, so he merely hummed in vague agreement. 

"I miss you. Like, even when you're just down the hallway." Craig elaborated. Tweek understood the subtext of this to be something along the lines of imagine how much I'd miss you if you were dead. 

"It's the same with me." He agreed. "I wish were in all the same classes." 

"I wish we didn't even have to go to school." Craig countered. "You're the only person who I can have fun doing nothing with." 

Tweek nodded into his boyfriend's shoulder, regretting the way his tears soaked through the fabric of Craig's T shirt. 

"Tomorrow is Sunday, Tweek." Craig said. "So, we can just take it easy." 

Tweek gave a stunted nod, his chin bouncing uncomfortably on Craig's shoulder. 

"No pressure." Tweek mumbled, making fun of himself a little bit. Craig smirked. 

"We'll just lay in bed all day." He said. "Maybe watch a movie or something." 

"Nothing sad though, okay?" 

"Of course." 

Tweek took his head off of Craig's shoulder and instead leaned to his face, connecting his quivering mouth with Craig's. Tweek ignored the inclination to be embarrassed by his chapped lips, deepening the kiss. He rested a hand on the other boy's thigh and squeezed firmly. In the face of Tweek's sadness, Craig felt a little guilty about the stirring in his own groin. Tweek moved his mouth down to Craig's neck, sucking small marks on his skin. 

"People are going to notice those, baby." Craig murmured, before allowing himself a soft whine. When Tweek was sad he got very needy, and Craig was never one to deny his boyfriend anything. "What do you wanna do, Tweek?" 

"Take your shirt off." 

Craig obliged immediately, pulling the tightly fitting shirt off of his chest. Tweek narrowed in on his collar bones, covering the area in small kisses. These hickeys, at least, would be far easier for Craig to conceal. 

"You're so hot." Tweek whispered, solemn. Craig felt another tug in his dick. 

"You're the only person who can make me feel this way." Tweek added, licking experimentally at one of Craig's nipples. Craig gasped and shivered, biting down on his tongue. "You own me." 

This only added to Craig's arousal, loving the idea of his own dominance. 

"Can I suck you off?" Tweek wondered out loud, already unbuttoning Craig's jeans. Craig felt his cheeks heating up at the bluntness of his boyfriend's words as he kicked off his jeans, letting them hit the ground. 

"I'm never gonna say no to that, baby." 

Tweek wasted no time positioning himself on the ground and yanking Craig's boxers down so that they sat just below his thighs. He had purchased these for Craig in a value pack last weekend, knowing his boyfriend would appreciate the galactic designs on every pair. These ones had little green aliens on them, poking their heads out from UFOs. 

Craig was already hard and dripping with pre cum, having spent the last thirty seconds imagining the feeling of Tweek's mouth on his dick. From this angle, he could see the spattering of freckles on Tweek's crooked nose . 

"Okay, Craig." Tweek announced. "I'm gonna start now." 

Craig smirked, amused. This was one of many Tweek-isms. He always, always gave Craig fair warning before giving him a blowjob. Before he could make any smart remarks, Craig was inhaling sharply as Tweek's tongue brushed his skin. He groaned faintly, almost in relief. 

It was a good thing that Craig was relatively quiet in bed, because both Tucker parents were asleep down the hall. As Tweek continued sucking, Craig put a hand in his messy blonde hair and gripped, keeping himself grounded. 

"You're so good, babe. Your mouth feels so good on me." 

Tweek swirled his tongue, and Craig hoped it didn't hurt when he tugged on his hair. 

"I'm close, Tweek." He said in barely a whisper, embarrassed by how quickly his boyfriend had managed to send him crumbling to pieces. With one more expert movement of Tweek's tongue, he was coming. Tweek's name escaped his lips in a strangled cry as he did, praying that his parents slept as deeply as he did. 

When he came down from his high, he saw that Tweek's eyes were half closed and he was slouched into himself, exhausted. Craig grabbed him by the hand, pulling him into bed. Tweek took a moment to get settled, snuggling beneath the comforter. Craig grabbed a tissue and began to clean himself up, glancing to make sure nothing had gotten on his carpet. 

"I'm sleepy." Tweek whispered, collapsing onto Craig's bare shoulder. 

"That wore you out, huh?" Craig asked, pressing a kiss onto the top of Tweek's head. Tweek responded by detaching himself from Craig and letting himself fall backwards against the mattress. The bed springs squeaked obnoxiously in response to his weight. Craig grinned, laying down too. 

"Thanks for letting me wake you up, Craig." Tweek said, reaching to intertwine their fingers. 

"It's just preparation for when we're married, dude." Craig responded, shutting his eyes so he didn't have to see his boyfriend's reaction. Tweek only smiled to himself, gripping Craig's hand a little tighter. 

These were the moments, he thought to himself. It was times like this when it was easy to convince himself that things were alright.


End file.
